


meet me here by moonlight

by walkthegale



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Fluff and Smut, Potions, Sex Magic, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26047756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkthegale/pseuds/walkthegale
Summary: Hecate has a gift for Ada.
Relationships: Ada Cackle/Hecate Hardbroom
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	meet me here by moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmic_llin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_llin/gifts).



> A several months belated birthday fic for cosmic_llin!
> 
> Thank you to cassiopeiasara for the excellent beta!

“What is it this time?” Ada perches on the edge of Hecate’s desk, tucking her skirt about her knees.

She loves so much watching Hecate like this, standing over one of her cauldrons, deeply absorbed in her work. Hecate is always astoundingly beautiful, of course, but perhaps never more than when something has her full attention - the way her whole body is included in her concentration, her eyes bright with interest, her hands working with speed and grace and meticulous precision.

Hecate doesn’t look up. Ada watches her measure the tiniest amount of a glowing silver liquid and add it to the brew at an angle no doubt calculated for absolute maximum effect.

“A gift,” Hecate says, presently, stirring a few times anticlockwise, and then reversing the direction. “A surprise.” She looks up just long enough to catch Ada’s eye, and Ada feels it like the spark of a spell, like there was a flash of magic in Hecate’s glance, even though she knows there wasn’t. 

Ada watches a little longer, tracing the swirling patterns in the wood of the desk with her fingertips while she waits. The potion smells somewhat sweet, with a background richness that she enjoys, that she wants to keep breathing in. Its colours shift, shades of deep pink, purple, blue, shot through with something dark and shimmering. Ada wants desperately to ask again what it is, or even for a small clue that might help her to guess, but she knows from long experience that she won’t be able to coax so much as a single word from Hecate on the subject until Hecate is absolutely ready. Instead she busies herself trying to identify the ingredients based on scent, though she’s not at all convinced of any success.

After a time, Hecate measures a portion into a small bottle and stoppers it quickly, then gathers a couple more from the work bench beside her, tucking them all away into hidden pockets that Ada is always impressed she manages to fit into that dress.

Ada smiles, knowing her self-restraint is about to be rewarded. “May I have my gift now?” she asks.

Hecate walks over, stops in front of her, and cups Ada’s face in both her hands, her fingers cool on Ada’s cheeks. She leans in and gives Ada a long, unhurried kiss - the sort that starts gentle, light, but by the time she pulls away, Ada is a left more than a little breathless.

“You may,” she says, enunciating carefully, in a way Ada recognises as calculated to hide the hitch in her own breathing. “But not here.” Hecate steps closer still, wraps one arm about Ada’s shoulder and Ada knows exactly what to expect next. A brief movement of her free hand, and Hecate casts a transfer spell, whisking them both away from the potions lab and up to their bedroom.

Hecate says nothing, once they’re there, instead taking Ada back into her arms and kissing her in that focused way she has that makes Ada feel like, here and now, she’s the only thing that matters in Hecate’s entire world. Hecate kisses her until she’s dizzy with it, until she clings to Hecate when Hecate finally pulls away.

“Sit,” Hecate tells her, gesturing to the bed, and Ada complies, seating herself on the edge of it and folding her hands in her lap.

Hecate drops to her knees on the floor in front of Ada, and Ada is taken afresh by how stunning she is, her long hair still immaculate in its bun at the end of the day, the sharp lines of her cheekbones, her dark, expressive eyes looking up at Ada with such obvious anticipation and desire. Ada wants nothing more than to kiss her again, right now - patience is not Ada’s strongest suit - but she waits, for whatever Hecate has in store for her next.

Hecate produces the small potion bottles again, and Ada sees now that there are three.

“This one is for you,” Hecate explains, passing one of them to Ada. She gestures to a second. “I shall take this one.” Then she shows Ada the third bottle, slightly larger than the previous two. “We’ll then each need to drink from this.”

Ada finds herself nodding along, enthralled. She holds her bottle up to the light, between two fingers, and watches the liquid inside it swirl and glow.

“Does that sound… is this all right with you, Ada?”

Ada looks back down, seeing gentle concern in Hecate’s eyes. “It’s much more than all right,” Ada reassures her. This is far from her first time trying one of Hecate’s experimental potions, and she trusts her skill implicitly. She knows without asking, beyond shadow of a doubt, that any nervousness she’s sensing from Hecate is only about whether Ada will like the results, not any fear about the efficacy of the potion itself.

Holding Hecate’s gaze, Ada lifts her potion to her lips, and Hecate does the same. On the same breath, they each tip their heads back and drink.

The potion is delicious, thick and sweet, and Ada can feel the warmth of it radiating through her like a good whisky. No sooner has it hit Ada’s stomach, than Hecate offers her the remaining bottle.

“Take a sip,” Hecate tells her. “And then pass it back to me. The quantity is unimportant.”

Ada obeys. The flavour of this one is a little deeper than the previous, with a smoky kick in background, and it’s not at all unpleasant. Ada enjoys the lingering taste on the back of her tongue as she hands the bottle back to Hecate and watches her take her own sip.

“And now?” she asks, smiling, once Hecate has stowed the empty bottles safely on the bedside table.

And Hecate smiles back at her, wide and more than a little predatory. It sends a delicious shiver down Ada’s spine.

Remaining where she is, kneeling in front of Ada, Hecate flutters her fingers - a familiar small, sharp movement that Ada knows contains multitudes. She feels Hecate’s magic sweep over her, and then her clothing is gone, every last bit of it vanished away in the same instant as Hecate’s own. Ada couldn’t take her eyes off Hecate if she wanted to, all the beautiful long lines of her now completely bare for Ada to see, her posture poker straight, her hands still held at her sides.

Hecate takes a breath, and then another, and Ada matches them with her own, and she waits, and she watches. And then she feels something shift. She can’t tell what it is yet, but something about herself feels very slightly, subtly different. She assumes Hecate feels it too, because that’s the moment when Hecate moves.

Ada watches Hecate bring her own hand to her chest and run her fingers lightly over her nipple. For the briefest moment that’s what Ada’s aware of - the beautiful sight of Hecate touching her own breast. Then her mind registers something else. She didn’t just see Hecate touch herself - she felt it too. She felt Hecate’s fingers as though they had brushed over her own skin, as though they had touched her and her own nipple had hardened under the sensation. 

She realises that Hecate is watching her like a hawk. Hecate runs her hand from her own breast, down over her stomach, and Ada feels it. It feels like Hecate is touching her, but also… different. The feeling is different to when Hecate touches her, but she’s feeling it on her breast, on her stomach, just where Hecate’s hand... Ada’s mouth falls open slightly as she works it out.

Hecate has stilled. She raises one eyebrow as Ada meets her gaze.

“I can feel what you’re feeling,” Ada says, breathlessly. She catalogues her body as she speaks - noticing that she feels the bed under her, but also somehow the bedside rug under her - under Hecate’s - knees. That she’s still aware of Hecate’s hand almost but not quite as though it were resting against her own stomach. That muddled in with her own desire, there’s something else, something new, that must be a sense of Hecate’s arousal too.

Hecate nods. “Yes. You should feel a number of the physical sensations that I experience. Only the physical,” she clarifies. “Not emotional. Do you like it?”

“Yes.” Ada knows her reply is a little hesitant at first, as she takes a moment to consider the matter. “It’s... strange. But it’s good. Does it work both ways? Can you feel what I’m feeling?”

“No, only one way. This time.” Hecate smiles at her, her eyes alight and her full attention on Ada. Ada adores being the recipient of that undivided intensity, and she envies it a little. Her own mind often refuses to leave other matters well enough alone when she wants it to - she’ll find herself half-worrying about work, or plans, or some difficulty or another from the day, her thoughts racing when all she really wants is to focus entirely on what’s in front of her. She considers that Hecate had almost certainly considered that in the creation of this particular potion. Hecate does tend, with these experiments, to lean to things that Ada might find overwhelming, that might occupy her whole mind, take her completely out of herself, and it can be such fun.

“Do you want to continue?” Hecate asks, still watching Ada closely.

In response, Ada reaches out and runs her hand down Hecate’s side, from her shoulder to her hip. She can feel Hecate’s soft skin under her fingers, and she can feel the ticklish, sweeping sensation of her own touch, and it makes her shiver herself. “Yes,” she says, simply. “Very much.”

Hecate nods, looking up at Ada still, her eyes deep enough that Ada could fall into them. Ada draws her hands over Hecate’s body until she reaches her breasts, cupping the small weight of them in her palms. If she concentrates solely on her hands, on the warmth of Hecate in her palms, the feel of Hecate’s nipples under her thumbs, this seems almost normal, like it could be any night between them over the last few years. But she can feel hands on her own breasts simultaneously, though there are none. She can feel her own thumbs brushing her own nipples, except it feels… different. Her own body and yet not her own, her own reactions layered on top of feelings not her own, new feelings, different to her own.

She takes in a sharp breath and pulls her hands away. Closes her eyes. Too much. It’s too much.

“Ada?” Hecate asks after a moment. Her tone is soft, reassuring. “Shall we stop?”

Ada feels her breathing even out. She opens her eyes again and meets Hecate’s. There isn’t a single mote of judgement there, not a shred of impatience or disappointment. Of course she understands. Ada smiles.

“No, she says. “I don’t want to stop.” She gestures to the bed next to her, and Hecate gets up and comes to join her there, being careful not to touch Ada, and Ada loves her for it. She breathes, slowly, deliberately, taking stock of her own body again, of the familiar limits of her own skin, the beat of her own heart, the hum of her magic. Drawing on that magic a little, just enough to feel the crackle of it in her veins, helps her ground herself further. She waits until she is absolutely sure of the boundaries of her own self, confident in the knowledge that Hecate would never push those boundaries even the slightest bit further than Ada wants her to. 

Once she’s ready, she catches Hecate’s eye and moves to lean back against the headboard. “Perhaps we could start differently,” she suggests. “While I get used to it. Perhaps instead of touching you, I could watch you touch yourself. And, well, feel it. If… if you’d like it as well.”

Hecate, listening attentively, has flushed a pretty shade of red, but there’s a gleam in her eyes that Ada knows well, overriding any embarrassment she might be feeling. She positions herself seated in front of Ada and draws her fingers lightly down the side of her own neck, to the curve of her shoulder, something she knows Ada adores, and smiles when Ada shivers.

“Perhaps,” Hecate says, mimicking Ada’s earlier tone, “you could tell me where you’d like me to touch next?”

Ada nods, her mouth a little dry. “Your chest,” she says quietly. 

She watches Hecate walk the fingers of one hand along her collarbone, feels the tiny spots of contact that aren't really there along her own.

Pausing there, Hecate looks at Ada with an obvious question in her eyes, and Ada takes the moment gratefully to assess her own feelings, finding them distinctly positive this time.

“It’s good,” she tells Hecate. “It tickles a little, but it’s good.” She smiles, and Hecate takes the encouragement, sliding her hand a little lower, down to the top of her breast. Pausing there for a moment, she looks at Ada, waits for Ada’s nod before she carries on.

She is touching her breast like she would touch Ada, Ada realises after a moment. Drags her thumb over her nipple the way she would Ada’s, circling it as it hardens against her fingers. It feels good, but, more than that, there’s something incredibly beautiful about watching Hecate touch herself with the same gentle reverence she usually reserves for Ada’s body. 

Ada finds her body arching in response to a touch that isn’t there as Hecate’s hands wind their way down over her stomach, her sides. She can feel her own reaction, echoed by a distant awareness of an arousal that feels different to her own, and as Hecate’s fingers reach the tops of her thighs and slide inward, as she watches Hecate pause there, the feel of soft hair under her fingertips, Ada parts her own legs without thinking.

“What do you want me to do, Ada?” Hecate’s voice is almost a surprise, so enrapt had Ada been.

Ada takes a moment to find her own voice in turn, taking a long, deep breath that catches a few times. She feels like all her nerves are alight, like there’s a hum of desperate desire running right underneath her skin. “Touch yourself,” she manages eventually. “I want to see - I want to feel your fingers there.” Hecate watches her still, and Ada’s own hands itch to move, to slide between her own legs, but she resists. “ _Please_ , Hecate.”

With a satisfied nod, Hecate leans back on the hand she isn’t using to touch herself, and parts her legs, bending them a little at the knees. It’s a position that allows Ada the best possible view as Hecate sweeps her fingers gently over her labia. Ada is given the briefest rush of sensations - a hint of heat, of damp hair under fingertips, of Hecate’s surge of arousal at her own touch, there and then gone again in a trice.

Ada hears herself moan, half pleasure half frustration, and she would almost be embarrassed by the sound, except that she knows the effect it has on Hecate, both from prior experience, and the little spike of heat she feels that isn’t quite her own.

Hecate’s fingers slide slowly up the inside of her own thigh, and Ada feels the tickle of it, knows how hard it must be for Hecate to keep up this creeping pace. Her body wants to chase Hecate’s hands. To touch herself. Something. _Anything_ except this teasing almost-touch that, coupled with the sight of Hecate’s flushed face and spread legs, she thinks might drive her entirely to distraction.

An absolute eternity of time passes, during which Ada barely remembers how to breathe, and then, finally, Hecate allows her fingers to find their mark, and Ada can feel wet heat against her own hand, and a firm touch exactly where she wants it most. She finds her hips moving, her fingers too, against the air, as though she could encourage Hecate that way, as though she could have a part in finding this rhythm.

“Like this?” Hecate asks, softly, and Ada watches her fingers move, can feel them sliding against Hecate’s clit in just precisely the way Ada herself likes to be touched.

Ada bites her lip, nods, gasps, wordless. Hecate nods once, briskly, and continues, her movements strong and steady, circling over and around, just so exactly the way she would touch Ada that if Ada were to close her eyes, she would hardly believe that Hecate’s hands weren’t on her after all. She doesn’t close them, of course - she doesn’t want to deny herself a single second of this view.

The arm Hecate is using to hold herself up begins to tremble beneath her - Ada can feel the ache of it. “Lie down, darling,” she manages, in between her own heavy breaths, and Hecate does, collapsing in place, splayed across the bed, and for a moment Ada is aware of their soft blanket beneath Hecate’s back, before all her attention is drawn back to the work of Hecate’s hand between her legs.

She notices a build - her own, and Hecate’s both. She notices the pace of Hecate’s fingers start to shift. She watches Hecate’s hips move, feels her press against her own hand. Feels a growing tension in her muscles that is not entirely her own. She realises, as Hecate draws visibly closer, that Hecate’s movements are becoming less calibrated to what Ada likes, and more to what she likes herself. That pattern, that motion, familiar as things Ada has done herself to Hecate, time and again. Ada knows a flash of pride as she feels Hecate’s fingers recreate those exact movements.

And by now Ada is almost too lost in the sensation of it all for it to make any difference to how she feels herself. In the feel of Hecate, in the sight of her, spread out before Ada, her eyes closed, her hand working away at her own pleasure. Hecate could touch herself, could by extension touch Ada, any way at all right now, and Ada is sure of how her body would respond.

“Ada,” Hecate gasps out. “Ada, I’m… I...” She makes a visible effort. “Should I stop?”

Ada pictures, for a moment, what that would look like. Pictures saying yes, saying _stop_ , and watching Hecate lift her fingers away from herself, her hips straining to follow them, biting back the wild desperation on her face as she struggles to regain her control. Struggles not to come, because Ada told her not to.

“No.” Ada cants her hips forward as though she might gain some purchase from Hecate’s fingers. Hecate follows the motions with her eyes, and Ada feels Hecate’s fingers press down in a stuttering movement that draws a gasp from her open mouth, and an echoing moan from Hecate’s.

“Don’t stop. Keep going… just there… just like that. Oh!” Ada’s voice falters, hitches. Hecate’s fingers keep moving and Ada tries helplessly to keep track of her own thoughts, her words blurring together. “I can feel… oh my… oh _Hecate_ …”

And _there_. Ada watches Hecate’s hips jerk and feels the hot flood of Hecate’s orgasm break over her. There’s the briefest moment where the sensation is intense enough that Ada isn’t sure if she’s coming herself, but then she becomes aware of it as _Hecate’s_ orgasm, distinct and different from her own. She tries, through the haze of her own arousal, to focus on it, to feel the ways it’s similar and the ways it isn’t - to feel Hecate’s twitching muscles and the deep pulse of her pleasure.

When Hecate goes limp against the bedspread, eyes closed, her hand falling away from herself, Ada is up on her knees before she has time to think. She wants more, _now_ , and she knows Hecate well enough to know that there’s more to be done there too. She reaches out, almost tentative for a moment, and touches Hecate’s arm, feeling it like lightning under her own skin. _More. Now._

Without giving Hecate so much as another moment to recover, Ada finds her way between Hecate’s legs. Hecate’s eyes fly open as Ada settles herself there, and Ada smiles up at her, radiating her intent.

“Ada…” Hecate’s voice is low and dreamy, and Ada’s name is half a question, half a plea. She tangles her hands in Ada’s hair - Ada feels it wound around her palms, between her fingers, and the gentle sting across her scalp.

Ada couldn’t keep her waiting if she wanted to. She feels her own breath hot against Hecate, against herself, and then she begins, her mouth open and eager as she puts it to work on Hecate’s cunt. And she feels it. Of course she feels it. Hecate’s slick, silken heat against her lips, the taste of her, and then the flickering, sliding of her own tongue over and around her own clit. Quick, messy circles, gasping breath, fast and needy and relentless. There’s usually a rhythm to this, an intricate, delightful dance formed of Ada’s skill and Hecate’s reactions. Not this time - Ada’s strokes are broad and sloppy and increasingly desperate as the tension builds in her own body. She grinds her hips against nothing, presses her thighs tightly together, and keeps going.

Somewhere in the heat of it all, Ada loses track - she can’t keep hold of which sensations are hers, and which belong to Hecate. There are too many things happening, it’s almost too much, but it’s so, so good, and everything in her head dissolves into a haze of want, of need. She keeps up the pace, and then it happens fast, and she whimpers as Hecate’s hips stutter and jerk beneath her, as her own body begins to shake.

When Ada comes, it’s partly Hecate’s orgasm and partly her own. She can tell the difference now, can feel the intense and delicious familiarity of her own blending into the sharp heat of Hecate’s. She thinks maybe she cries out, maybe it’s Hecate’s name, stars and light and trails of magic flashing behind her eyes.

Her mouth stills as her body does, and she lays her head against Hecate’s thigh while her breath comes back to her. Hecate’s hand plays idly in her hair, and the twisting sensation of nonexistent strands around her fingers is almost as soothing as Hecate’s touch itself. Ada wonders vaguely if the feeling is a little fainter now than it was before.

It takes a little time before Ada finds it within herself to move, and to encourage Hecate to do likewise, to both find their way to the top of the bed and slide beneath the covers, Hecate with her arm about Ada’s shoulders, Ada curled into Hecate’s side. Ada is still more aware of both sides of this equation than she usually would be, her own skin against Hecate’s as well as Hecate’s against hers, but it is definitely lessened. A gentler, softer feeling.

“I think,” she yawns and cuddles closer into Hecate, all her senses treacle slow in the aftermath. “Your marvellous potion is wearing off.”

She feels Hecate nod against her. “It lasted approximately as long as I expected it to. I could probably refine the recipe for a longer duration - another dash of yarrow root perhaps…”

Ada smiles lazily. “It was wonderful just as it was, darling, as I’m quite certain you were aware.”

Hecate, of course, has started musing on the intricacies of the potion’s efficacy, and begins to intersperse it with questions for Ada about exactly how certain elements had felt, and Ada would like to answer, but her mind is still wrapped in a pleasing layer of fluff, and she would also really quite like to drift quietly to sleep.

She takes hold of Hecate’s hand, laces their fingers together. “I don’t think my descriptions can do it justice, my dear. Perhaps next time we can try it the other way around. If you would like that, of course.”

Hecate presses a kiss to Ada’s temple, and it takes Ada a moment to realise she didn’t feel it against her lips at all. She finds she’s the slightest bit sad at the loss, though there’s also a comfort in only being aware of her own body, her own skin.

There’s further comfort still in Hecate’s body winding around hers, and in the spark of her magic in the air as she uses it to tuck the blankets around them both and extinguish the light.

Ada doesn’t have another thought until morning.


End file.
